


Please

by crossingwinter



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alpha Rey, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Light daddy kink, Look who it is bringing her oedipal boners into abo, Non-Linear Narrative, Omega Kylo Ren, THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE TRASH AND THEN LIKE FOUR WORDS IN I DEVELOPED FEELINGS OK?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2018-11-02
Packaged: 2019-08-16 16:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16499156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: It’s the sort of thing he would only ask Rey.  Rey has seen too much of the boiling mess under his skin to judge him for this.





	Please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_So_Reylo/gifts).



> I did not write this on the flight I was challenged to write this on, nor in the middle seat of the flight, but I did write most of it on a flight so I think I at least deserve partial credit. HERE ENJOY THIS GARBAGE

It’s the sort of thing he would only ask Rey.  Rey has seen too much of the boiling mess under his skin to judge him for this.

And she makes him brave enough to ask it.

 

-

 

He feels his heat coming on, he knows it’s his heat coming on, but the trouble with heats is that they make him lose what careful control he works to maintain at all other times.  Words—excuses—like  _ I can’t help it _ swirl through his mind, but he’s always been weak he supposes, because for such a long time, this was the only relief he knew when his heart started beating too hard and left his head behind.

His heats are erratic.  They come hot and heavy, short and—not sweet, he doesn’t think that heats could ever be called sweet—but blessedly lasting only a night before disappearing again for an unknown period of time.  That’s normal for a male Omega, or at least that’s what his doctors keep telling him. All the hormones for birthing a child but none of the equipment, and therefore no anchor to consistency. It does things to the system.  Everyone’s always assumed that the anger that bursts out of him, the uncontrollable rages—that’s Alpha energy. He is big and tall and muscular. He must be an Alpha beneath his suppressants.

Anyone who’s ever heard Beta women complain about PMS, though, could recognize it in him if they looked closely enough.  They tend not to, though. That’s always been Ben. No one looks closely at him because they’re afraid of what they’ll see.

No one except Rey.

 

-

 

“Ben!” 

The words come as an Alpha command and it’s like he’s a little boy again, his mother able to calm him down the way that no one else could.  ( _ Why did she send me away?  Why _ ?)  He looks around.  The table is upended, the glasses have shattered and a bowl—the one that Finn had given Rey from the pottery class he was taking—had split in three.  

It’s been a long while since he’d boiled this hot, had gotten this uncontrollable.  Rey’s presence keeps him calm, keeps him in check. Except when it doesn’t. Except when she smells like that and his skin’s on fire and the room is too hot and he wants to peel off his clothes, wants to peel off his skin.

“Breathe,” she tells him.  

Easy for her to say.  If he breathes, he smells her.  If he breathes it’ll get worse.

But her voice promises that it’ll also get better.

 

-

 

He meets Rey through his mom.  This surprises him: he hasn’t spoken to his mother in seven years.  But there she is, walking down Canal Street, her arm looped in the arm of a younger, taller woman.

For a moment, he thinks that she won’t have seen him, that he can slip away.

It’s a stupid thing to think, because he’s frozen in his tracks and is nine feet tall and his mother has always been able to smell him through his suppressants.  (Another thing his doctors tell him is normal. Pack bonds can smell through anything. It’s a survival thing.) 

His mother freezes at the sight of him too, and her eyes go wide and bright and a moment later she’s released the arm of the other woman—ha!—and is hurrying towards him and years of pain and sadness rush away because  _ mommy, my mommy is here _ .

“Ben,” she whispers and he’s Ben again—not Kylo—why was he ever Kylo?  Oh right, because she lied to him, because her brother tried to—“Ben.”

That’s when he smells her—the other woman.  For a moment he’s confused, wondering why he’s smelling her through suppressants if she’s not his pack.  Then he realizes she’s not on suppressants. 

She stands there with the casual uncaring of  _ how you might make others react to your smell  _ that only an Alpha can really pull off, oblivious to how he feels like he’ll never smell anything ever again because her smell surely will cling to his sensory nerves until his dying moment.

So why is she staring at him like she can smell him too?

 

-

 

He breathes because she told him to, and she fills his nose—lilies and roses, the smell of gardens after the rain, moist earth and fertility or is that him he smells, ripening like fruit, like flowers, wanting to lure her in, the honeybee to his stamen.   _ Fertilize me.  Fill me with fruit. _

He’s hard and already leaking precum and Rey unzips his pants and wraps a hand around his stem, pulling him loose. 

“Breathe for me,” she tells him, and there’s a glint in her eyes, like she is in awe of him, like she is in awe that she has command over him.  He could come right there from the look in her eyes.

“Yes, Daddy.”

 

-

 

“Please, Alpha,” he whines.  She is slippery and smooth around him, riding him harder than anyone has, than anyone could.  Her chest is flushed and heaving, her tits bouncing she’s moving so fast, her abdominal muscles rippling as he counts them—two, four, six—and he comes inside her, too soon and not soon enough, his mind blissfully blank, blissfully empty for the first time perhaps in his whole life.

It takes him a moment to realize that Rey is rubbing her own clit as she grinds against his limpening dick.  It takes him a moment to realize he should be doing that, but as he reaches for her, to partner his hand with hers, she is crying out and coming and everything about their room smells of heaven, sweet as honey, sweet like oranges.

 

-

 

He ends up on the bed.  

He always  _ ends up  _ on the bed, or maybe the couch, or, once, bent over the table, his ass gaping and open and slick.   _ Ends up _ because he is too hot to remember how he got there.  ( _ Ends up,  _ Rey had once teased him, her finger circling the tip of his dick while his breath staggered in his chest.)  

He ends up on the bed and Rey peels his clothes off, but leaves his skin in tact.  He ends up on the bed, whimpering and moaning and—

“Don’t touch yourself,” she commands.  “That’s my job.”

“Please, Daddy.”

“I said—that’s  _ my _ job.”

His hand leaves his cock reluctantly, and he focuses on his breathing.

 

-

 

They don’t talk about his parents.  Or at least, not when they’re talking about themselves.  They talk about his parents when they are talking about other things—work, dinner with friends, I saw your mother today she’s my mentor and she wanted to get coffee.  They don’t talk about the details of her relationship with his mother. They don’t talk about the details of his relationship with her either. 

And they certainly don’t talk about his dad.

 

-

 

“Daddy.”

“I have you, I have you,” she has him.  She has him, tucking his legs up so they’re oddly wrapped around hers as she slides herself along his shaft, her fingers reaching—not for his chest—but back behind for his ass, circling it, spreading the moisture of it across his skin, working to widen him—as though it needed work—before slipping fingers in.

Her movements become more stilted.  The angle is odd. But the angle doesn’t matter—what matters is that he is inside her and she is inside him and if he’s going to burn, he might as well light up the stars.

“Rey.”  Her name is music on his tongue, the rustling of leaves, the calling of birds.  “Rey.”

“I love you, Ben,” she whispers.

He comes hard.

His dick doesn’t go limp this time.

His scent grows riper.

Rey keeps riding him.

 

-

 

She reminds him of his mom.  In a good way, he thinks. She’s stubborn, and funny, and gets angry about injustice.  

He falls in love with her for it, watching her stand up for him in front of Luke, in front of Snoke.  She also stands up to him, which makes him love her more.

She doesn’t put up with his bullshit at all.  But she also sees that boiling under the anger, the aggression—there’s a sensitivity that he’s trying to protect because it’s the last bit of him left, the last bit of  _ him _ remaining after everything.  

And maybe because she doesn’t put out with his bullshit, she forces him to show her his underbelly.

She kisses her way across it, because she knows what pain is, and knows what it is to feel like you’re alone in the universe, and god—her lips are going lower, and lower, and lower, and—

 

-

 

“Are you going to knot me?” she whispers, leaning forward, her breasts brushing against his chest as she sucks on the gland on his neck.

She has sucked on every gland in his body, has broken the membrane of the one that he’d never thought would know any touch but his own, but every time she whispers words like this into his glands, it’s like the first time and he whimpers like an overwhelmed virgin, or maybe just an Omega in heat.

“Yes, Daddy, I’ll try.”

“Good,” she whispers.  “I want your knot.”

 

-

 

Knots are for Alphas.  He’s not supposed to have one.  At least that’s what he’d always thought.  Alphas pop knots all the time, come for minutes on end, pumping Omegas full of seed, planting progeny in willing wombs.  

Maybe it’s because Rey doesn’t have a knot—doesn’t have a knot, but has a very long clit, how he loves to pull it between his lips and suck on it, how he loves feeling the drag of it through his pubic hair at the base of his cock—that—after his fifth orgasm of the night (at least he has an Omega’s refractory period)—the base of his penis begins to swell, locking her in place.

She cocks her head, confused and he feels himself flush.

“Did you knot me, Omega?”

“I think I did, Alpha,” he says.

Alpha, because it was before he asked if he could call her Daddy.

 

-

 

She can’t keep her fingers in his ass when he’s sucking on her tits like this.  She’ll lose balance. But he doesn’t care. He loves sucking on her tits. They’re small, but god the tips of them stick out like an inch when she’s turned on, and her chest gets so flushed and red, he would pepper it with love bites if he could just be convinced to take his lips off her nipples.

The world is right when his mouth is on her nipples.  His mind goes blank, and his heart gets warm, and though Rey will slow to match the almost lazy way he suckles her, there continues to be that perfect pressure of her squeezing his cock with her cunt.

“Ben,” she sighs, her fingers twining in his hair, tugging at it.  “Ben, Ben, I love you, Ben, I love you.”

_ I love you,  _ he doesn’t say, but he thinks she gets the drift from the swipe of his tongue that sends her careening into bliss.

 

-

 

“Why did you hate your father?” she asks him one night, breaking the one rule they’d never spoken.  She’s got her head on his chest, and his fingers are in her hair, braiding it. 

“I didn’t hate him,” he says.   _ I wanted him to love me as much as he loved my mother. _

 

-

 

She fucks him hard for that, not that he’s complaining.

He’s too hot and wet to care how hard she fucks him.  She could do anything to him and he wouldn’t care. She does do anything to him and he doesn’t care.  He trusts her with his heart and his soul, he loves her—this woman who tongues his ass and lets him call her Daddy.  

He’s moaning incoherently now.  The blankets beneath them are soaked, he’s leaking precum out of his swollen, bobbing cock and onto his stomach.  And when he chances opening his eyes, he sees her there, licking away, her hands on each of his hamstrings, holding him in place as he trembles against her tongue, as all sense of reality leaves him—leaves him with Rey, only Rey, just as he’d always known it would be.

 

-

 

He can’t get her out of his nose.  He can’t.

He tries the blockers he’d been prescribed but either the prescription’s expired or it’s too late; he tries putting rubbing alcohol under his nose which he’d read on some subforum once should help, but just manages to give him a headache; he buries his nose in the old scarf he’d stolen from his mother and which still has some of her scent on it if you focus very hard, but that doesn’t work either.

He’s hard, and sweating, and he ends up drinking half a bottle of wine before throwing the remainder of the bottle into the kitchen sink and breaking it.

That’s how he knows he’s going into heat.  He always breaks things, when he goes into heat.

Maybe if his dad had understood that, things wouldn’t have gone the way they did.

 

-

 

“Do you know how good you smell?” Rey asks from between his legs, kissing her way up his belly, pausing to lap up the precum from just by his belly button. 

_ You smell like home,  _ she’d once whispered to him when she’d thought he was asleep, sated, exhausted.  She’d whispered it into his hair, holding him to her chest, and his arms had tightened around her because she smells like home too, she smells like forever and acts like it too.

“How good do I smell, Daddy?” Because he likes to hear it, because he knows she likes to tell him.  She nips at his navel and then kisses where she’d bit because she always does that. She claims him and kisses him every time.  

“Like hope,” she breathes into his skin, kissing her way back down his stomach.  “Like victory. Like solace. Like love.” What else he smells like will have to wait because her mouth has dropped over his cock now and she’s humming her enjoyment of him all around him and he knows it won’t be long before he trembles and shatters.

 

-

 

He’s never been attracted to teeth before, even if they have been fixations in his masturbation, an Alpha kissing their way down his back until they find  _ the spot  _ between his shoulder blades.

Rey has perfect teeth, white and even and clean.

How he wants to see them red with his blood, to feel them penetrate the membrane on his back.  They’ll be his teeth then. He’ll be hers. How he wants to be hers.

 

-

 

Her hand rubs along the base of his cock for a moment and she pauses, looking up at him.  “You’re doing so well,” she tells him. “It’s starting.”

He comes on her face.  He doesn’t mean to, but he groans and her hand is firm around the burgeoning knot and fuck he really didn’t mean to but his spunk is dripping over her cheekbones, down her nose.  

For a moment, he thinks she’ll be horrified—no warning, disrespect, out of control always out of control why can’t he control himself Ben for the love of god.

“Daddy,” he whispers, panicked, but Rey doesn’t release his cock.  With her other hand, she begins to wipe her face as clear as she can, then licks her fingers.  

“Did I get it all?” she asks.

“Most of it.”

She releases his cock and crawls up his torso so that her face is right next to his.  “What did I miss?”

He licks himself off her as she fumbles between them to find his cock again.  When the last drop is gone from her face, she slides onto him with a sigh, and looks down at him.  She kisses him, her perfect white teeth lightly grazing his lips. “Knot me,” she whispers. “I know you can do it.  You’ve been so good, Ben.”

And he does with a groan.

 

-

 

Sometimes, he fantasizes about bending her over a table and fucking her the way that Alphas do.  Sometimes, he fantasizes about taking charge, about making her breathless because of something he does to her, rather than something he does for her.  He never acts on it though. They are errant fantasies, images that dance across his mind as he sits on the bus, or does the crossword. In the heat of the moment, he wouldn’t change a thing.  She is what he needs, and he—he is what she needs.

When they’re done, sated and warm and lost in the feel and scent of one another, he does pull her into his arms, though. He holds her to his chest, her back to his chest, their hearts pumping in parallel.  He rubs his face into her hair, into her neck, covering him even more with the scent of her. He keeps her as close as he can.  _ I love you,  _ his touch says,  _ I’ll never leave you, never abandon you.  You’re safe with me. _

She’s taken care of him.  Now it’s his turn to take care of her.

 

-

 

She lies on his chest, her head over his heart, while the hot smell of sex swirls around them and his cock throbs and pulses inside her.

“Better?” she asks him, tilting her head up to kiss the underside of his jaw.

His arms tighten around her. 

The weight of him on her chest is comforting.  The heat is cooling. His muscles are relaxed. Outside, it begins to rain.

“Yes,” he whispers and kisses her forehead.  He tastes salty sweat there, and the remnants of his cum.  “Better.”

“Good.”  She nuzzles at his neck, licking the gland she finds there and he sighs.

_ You smell like home,  _ she’d told him.

She feels like home.  She is home. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says.

He feels her shrug.  “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

“You can explain to Finn why the bowl is broken if you feel guilty about it, but it’s really not the biggest deal in the world.”

Ben shudders at the prospect, but he knows he’ll do it.  He can face the consequences of his freakout. For Rey, he can do anything, will do anything.  

“Love you,” he whispers again, his arms tightening around her.  

“Love you too.”

  
  



End file.
